


Truth, Despair, and Hope

by TalonDick



Series: Twitter RP Solos [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Sexual Abuse, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18055997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalonDick/pseuds/TalonDick
Summary: A story of escape.





	Truth, Despair, and Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, it's been a while!
> 
> I haven't been writing as many long fics lately, due to loss of time, but to make up for it I'll be posting a collection of my written solos here.
> 
> Maybe one day you'll see something big from me again, but that day is not today.
> 
> Enjoy!

Talon was a slave to the vile. Owned by the corrupt and belonging to the greedy. Held tight by a leash of love, of abuse, of lies.

Never once in five years did he question it. He was good. His loyalty rooted itself deep within his soul, latching on and taking grasp. It held firm, like a parent's hand on the arm of a misbehaving child.

Until the time where it suffocated him.

Dick's voice had been plaguing him for months before it happened. First a nagging, endless but silent, whispering to him sweet nothings about opportunities that lay outside the gaze of his masters.

Despise this, it was still quiet all the same. Not enough for him to take a chance, not enough for him to make a change.

At most, it was an annoyance. Something he yearned to get rid of, was confused over. The words it spoke made no sense. Contradicted all the previous lessons he had been taught, by guiding hands. The ones that cared for him. The ones that loved him. However, as fearful as the voice made him, Talon dared not to tell the Owls that it existed. 

Dick only grew louder, though. More assertive. Not afraid to kick and scream and rattle up the chains in his head. 

As hard as he tried, he could ignore it no longer. It was prominent. Made him doubt himself. Although he was so convinced that Dick was wrong, what he said somehow made sense.

It was the truth. That he was being used. That he was being abused. That Talon was a person too, and everything about his poor existence was fabricated to keep him in line.

Once he cracked, to listen to this, he did not go back.

He sent his face to do the biddings of his masters, and himself went frolicking with the freedoms of the world, from all the things that the man in his head spoke.

It was nice. To hear of all that could be. And Talon harbored these words in seclusion. Just words, as he and Dick alone together watched God... no actions. 

His action would come later.

A final straw. One kiss too much.

The Grandmaster had pulled him away again, as he had always done over the years. To the seclusion of his quarters, where both secrets and bodies lie together. A dirty place. An unholy place.

It started as such frequent events usually did. Talon was told to strip of his armor while the one who owned him watched, those hungry eyes and their lustful aura piercing through his very being. Those calloused hands that groped every part of him there was to touch, once he was naked, pulling him close and marking him as what he was. His.

And he repeated that, again and again, his Grandmaster.

Slow fingers ran through Talon's hair.

"You are mine."

Rough digits upon his waist.

"You belong to me. So good, doing as I command."

A grip around his throat. His soul.

"My loyal pet."

Talon suffocated.

"Yes," the breath escaped him, as he was shoved down upon silk sheets. A dominating presence on top of him.

For a moment, he doubted. He felt vulnerable. He felt love, the kind that his leash was made out of. What was it that he really wanted?

Golds looked past the man above him, past the ceiling, past the city skyline above, to God. He had been told that the Lord only watched over people, and clearly, Talon was not a person.

He knew better by that moment.

If anything, he had been blessed. And with that blessing, as he realized it, found a new purpose.

Talon took hold of the knife he had hidden under the pillow only hours before. Stabbed his Grandmaster in the back with the speed of a snake.

He was a snake. A traitor to his Owls.

But oh, how they deserved what came next.

Still bare, in the form his masters ironically liked him most in, Talon travelled through the Court's halls, cutting down man after woman with his shimmering blades. Crimson painted the walls in a murderous masterpiece. It could appear as a massacre.

But they were not men, not women, not human, Talon decided. They had deceived him, to cover up their own crimes. Their own true natures. They were creatures of malice and hatred.

Through the hand of God, a lost Saint, they had received retribution.

He left the old armor behind, as well as his weapons, struck through the bodies of various Court members. His own persona would be drawn up. To match his new life, his new goal, rebirth.

He saw hope. He saw light.

The world is vile, and corrupt, and greedy.

But he can save it.

It can be cleansed.

And so here he stands, atop a skyscraper, over Gotham below in the sparks of the setting sun, reaching out toward that horizon.

A horizon in which all evil must die.


End file.
